


A Horse Named Baby

by winchesterstupid



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Animal Death, Castiel Deserves to be Loved (Supernatural), Dean Winchester Also Deserves A Cowboy Hat, Dean Winchester Deserves Nice Things, Fluff, Happy Ending, Human Castiel (Supernatural), Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Just some gays on a ranch, Light Angst, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:06:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23607268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winchesterstupid/pseuds/winchesterstupid
Summary: Purgatory Peak, Montana, 1875.Two ex-soldier cowboys search for a lost heifer and find something better instead.OR: There was only one horse.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 7
Kudos: 42





	A Horse Named Baby

**Author's Note:**

> Gays and cowboys.

“Bobby’s gon’ be pissed if we lost another cow.” Dean shakes his head, coaxing his mare into a trot past the cattle pen. He rapidly double-counts heads and grunts in disgust. “Damn! We were lucky to get the last one back. A second time, this close to sundown? We might as well give up already.”  
“It’s the same heifer as last week,” Castiel informs him. “We should try the same place.” He urges his own mare, Cecelia, off across the valley to the rocky point where they found their heifer was last week, below where the mountains cradle the Montana sun. He’s new to this ranch, and the horse he’s riding is still wary of him as a stranger, but every time he sees those mountains he feels at home.  
It’s a shame this is only a three-week job, Castiel considers, glancing back as Dean follows in a gallop to catch up to them. He slows as he nears Cecelia’s tail, swiping his hat off to mop his bandanna at the sweat gathering in his hairline. His hair is almost golden in the light, like that fairytale with the trickster and the princess—spun straw.  
“How the hell d’you know it’s the same one?”  
“She’s the first one I branded. I screwed it up.”  
Dean bursts into a throaty laugh. “Right. Got it upside-down or somethin’. Man!”  
“Yes, Dean,” Castiel grouses, shooting another look at his partner. He remembers the branding day. They alternated turns with the broken arrow brand and with holding the cattle down. Dean was good at calming them, talking them through the panic like they had any comprehension of the English language. Castiel had been looking at him instead of the cow’s hip, and the broken arrow had gone on upside-down. “I was distracted.”

* * * *

They find their heifer eleven miles away from where the herd had been grazing.  
She’s not alive.  
Dean’s black mare paces around the body, calm as a cloudless day. In unnerving contrast, Cecilia is rolling her eyes and all but chomping her bit, maybe unsettled by the smell of death in the air. All Castiel can do is pat her neck and wish that she’d trust him already. He’s taken to not wearing spurs in the hopes of gaining her confidence, but it’s been fruitless so far. Nothing is working.  
“Prairie-rattler got her, you think?” Dean pipes up. He wrinkles his nose at the flies already landing on the heifer’s bloat stomach like he hasn’t seen death a million times before.  
Castiel considers the swelling in her muzzle from afar. It looks like maybe she was bitten on the nose. “That's our best guess. It’s only been three hours, so this wasn’t a natural death.”  
“Shit. Rattler’s about as natural as it gets. She was bound to be dinner sooner than later.”  
Castiel glances at him sideways, tries to guide Cece into the direction of the cow to get a closer look. She stubbornly tosses her head.  
“Get,” Castiel goads. “Get.”   
She balks, really digs her heels in. Castiel sighs.  
“Gee,” Dean snorts. “That sweet little thing givin’ a big strong cowboy like you a hard time?”  
“I don’t want to be unkind to her,” Castiel explains, “but she’s beginning to get under my skin. _Get.”_  
“Don’t worry, buddy, she’ll take to you eventually. Give it a month.”  
“I’m afraid I don’t have that much time,” Cas says. He gives up and just strokes her mane, bottling his exasperation. “I already told Bobby I’d be moving on at the end of next week.”  
“Oh,” Dean says. He makes a face. “What for? This is good pay, ain’t it?”  
“Of course. I just—“ Castiel stiffens as Cece whinnies. It’s not a pleasant sound at all. She seems scared—more scared than usual, anyway. She stumbles awkwardly back, ungainly hooves slipping over rocks. “Hey, honey, it’s okay,” Castiel coos (and ignores Dean laughing). “What the hell did I do now?”  
Abruptly, Dean quits laughing. “Oh, shit, Cas. To your left, there’s a—“  
Dean’s warning is drowned out in the terrified kind of shriek that Cecelia makes. She rears up and Castiel is unprepared as he tumbles out of the saddle. His arm gets twisted in the reigns, dragging him dangerously close to the kicking hooves. Dean is shouting for him to let go—he narrowly misses a horseshoe to the head—and he’s free, he’s falling, and he’s laying on the ground in a dazed crumpled ball.  
“—snake!” Dean shouts, all panic and absolutely no laughter. “Cas, there’s the goddamn _snake!”_  
Cas blindly scrambles backward, not even knowing if that’s the right direction, but it’s where Dean’s voice is coming from and he seems to have a good handle on the situation. After what seems an eternal moment of crawling and cursing and searching in the dust and grass for the damned serpent, a hand clamps down on his shoulder and yanks him back. He hears the distinct sound of a pistol cocking, and then Dean is shooting.  
At a snake.  
It kicks up a load more dust, sends clumps of wheatgrass flying. Finally the last shot rings out, echoed by the ringing in Castiel’s head. He warily uncovers his ears and discovers he is neither dead nor deaf.  
“Ah, got you, little bastard.” Dean sounds satisfied, so Castiel uncurls from where he’s cowering by the remaining horse’s haunches (Baby is steadfast and dependable as ever). “Well, now, Cas. Haven't heard you air your lungs like that since you got here two weeks ago.”  
“Apologies,” Cas says dryly. Without much surprise, he realizes Cecelia has cleared the area.  
“Shifty for a buckskin, ain’t she?” Dean muses. He sticks a hand down and Castiel heaves himself up with a grunt. He tries to dust himself off to no avail, watching as Cecilia kicks up a cloud on her way to the far horizon. Heading back to the ranch. "A real prize, that one."  
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”   
Dean gives his back a few unhelpful swipes, grimacing as his hand comes away gray and gritty. He’s got to be the most hygiene-minded cowboy Castiel has ever met, which isn’t saying much. “Well, lucky your head missed all those rocks, or it could’ve been a lot worse. Could’ve ended up like the young miss over there.” He juts his chin at the heifer’s carcass. “Damn shame. She had a good career ahead of her.”  
For a moment they stand and stare and come down from the action high. A crow calls out from a mile away, carrying through the dead air. The temperature is dropping with the sun.  
Castiel asks, “You think she was in pain?”  
“Probably. Damn thing bit her square on the nose, I think, and that takes a few hours to swell enough to suffocate. Quicker than the other way, maybe, but still a helluva way to go.” He glances at Castiel, who is still staring at the heifer. “Don’t worry about it, Cas. Bobby won’t actually be that pissed. He might not even care once we tell him two of our cows are expectin’.”  
“Yeah,” Castiel replies. He picks up his hat and turns it over in his hands, wiping dust from the dark brim. “Still.”  
“Still?”  
“Like you said, Dean. Hell of a way to go.”  
Dean rubs at his nose and looks uncomfortable. “Huh. Anyways, we should head on back.”  
“And leave her here?” Castiel realizes how stupid that sounds as soon as he says it. Of course they leave her here.  
“Yeah. Coyotes’ll get her if the wolves don’t. At least somebody’s gettin’ a meal outta her.” Dean’s chuckle dies in his throat. “Sorry. Bad joke. But it’s life, y’know.”  
“I know.” Castiel sighs and adjusts his hat on his head. “I know. I get overly attached.”  
“Must be a Yank thing.” Dean brightens and holds his hand out again. “You comin’?”  
“Huh?”  
“Ride with me,” Dean says obliviously. “Don’t worry, Baby can hold us both. If she can hold my big little brother, she can hold us two.”  
Castiel adjusts his hat again, because he severely needs something to do with his hands. “That’s alright, Dean. I think I can walk a few miles.”  
“Well, you ain’t gonna walk with all these rattlers slitherin’ around, are you? At night? With a fresh carcass so close by?” Dean snorts and shakes his head. “If I lose you, Bobby’ll be pissed for real. You’re un bueno vaquero, hombre. Trust me. We can tough it out for a few miles. Nobody ‘round her but us to see if you paint yourself on my back.” He grins that radiant grin, all the more radiant in the fading light.  
“Gracias,” Cas mutters. Dean unhooks his boot from the stirrup so Cas can boost himself up. Baby is a large horse, wide and strong, and Dean refuses to use conventional saddles—he prefers bareback, he says, which Castiel frankly thinks is ridiculous for a rancher. Regardless, he’s glad he doesn’t have to deal with the problem of a high cantle. He has enough issues with intruding on Dean’s personal space already.   
He leans his torso away, conscious of how close their hips are. There’s really no distance between them at all. If someone were to happen on this, somehow, it would be difficult to explain away.  
“Alright, let’s get back quick, then,” Castiel says, maintaining a gruff tone. “This can’t be good for her back.”  
“Aw, hell. She can handle anything, can’t she, sweetheart? Hya!”  
They take off. The quicker the better.

* * * *

The sun is setting fast.  
“So,” Castiel says slowly, “your horse’s real name is Impala?”  
“Yessir,” Dean says proudly.  
“Why.”  
Dean throws him a look over his shoulder. “Named after one of those deers they got in Africa. Those things can outrun lions, y’know. My brother—he’s studyin' to be a lawyer, so he’s real sharp—he told me that, and I figured my baby deserved a namesake that could keep up with her.”  
“What’s your brother’s name?”  
“Sammy. Sam Winchester, like the gun, but no relation there. We as a family prefer Colts, actually. Yeah, he went to college and everythin’, little genius. I’m real proud of that kid.”  
“He sounds like a good man.”  
“Yeah,” Dean says. His voice turns warm. “He is. Practically raised him myself.”  
“Well,” Castiel says mildly, “You make a good father. Take good care of kids and calves." He thinks back to the reason they're out here in the first place. "Mostly."  
Dean laughs. It’s such a nice sound Castiel almost forgets what a bad day they’re having.  
“I believe I’m goin’ to be sorry to see you go,” Dean declares suddenly.  
Castiel shifts a little in his seat. “Likewise,” he says, voice a grade more tender than he meant it to be.  
“I never met anyone like you. You talk Barnum,” Dean continues. He says it out loud, like Castiel is supposed to know what that means.  
“I don’t understand.”  
“Well, you’re a Yank, right?”   
It’s almost an insult the way he says it. _Yank,_ like Castiel’s got an incurable disease. He tries not to sound angry when he responds. “Born in Idaho, raised in Virginia. What’s that got to do with it?”  
“Well, no offense, but the Yanks I’ve talked to are not so easy to talk to as you are, believe it or not. Bunch of high-falutin’ beef-headed individuals is what I’ve met. Think they’re so smart, but they’re fulla hot air.”  
“And I’m not?”  
Dean barks a laugh. “Not that I know of so far, no.”  
“Wait until you get to know me better,” Castiel advises. “Then make your judgments.”  
“I don’t mean to judge. Fact is, I’m against it. I just cannot stand Yanks who think they’re better’n me just because they’re Yanks. Now, make no mistake, I may be a Southern-loving pie eater, but I fought for the Union. I think I’ve earned some damn respect from those blowhards.” He turns his head halfway so Castiel can see the grin stretching his lips. “Can you believe it’s been ten whole years? People round here act as if a day hasn’t gone by. And we whupped ‘em.”  
“'Glory, glory, Hallelujah,'” Castiel deadpans. Dean laughs again and Castiel's heart sings a funny little ditty.  
“Here’s another thing I’ve been meaning to ask you," Dean interrupts himself. "Why come all the way out here to be ropin’ calves? You’re obviously educated. If I knew I’d sent Sammy off to college just for him to come back to chasing dead heifers in Purgatory, I’d have thought twice about sendin’ him in the first place.”  
“Frankly,” Castiel says, “I just wanted to get the hell away from my family.”  
“Ah.” Dean falls silent, waiting for him to continue, but Castiel simply shuts up. Instead, they listen to Baby’s hooves plod steadily through the grass and the distant cry of turkey vultures.  
“Yeah, family can be tough,” Dean replies finally. “What did they do to piss you off?”  
“More like what did I do to piss them off,” Castiel replies curtly. When Dean leans back to look at him, he feels obliged to add, “They disapproved of where I placed my affections.”  
It’s not lying, really. Castiel’s father was really looking forward to him marrying Hannah, the sweet daughter of a family friend. Castiel was really looking forward to not doing anything close to that.  
“I’ve been through somethin’ like that before. Imagine twenty-year-old me goin’ home and tellin’ his father, God rest his soul, that he’s fallen in love with a woman of the night. When I tell you I’ve never had a beating like that before--” Dean whistles low, almost fondly. “By any account, though, Lisa was worth it. Wonder what she’s up to now. Maybe I don't wanna know."  
“Did your father chase you out of state?” Castiel asks wryly. He does not add, _and warn that if you returned you would be thrown in jail for your unclean behavior?_ He does not add, _and spend his life teaching you that you will burn in Hell for your unnatural inclinations?_ He also does not add _I’m a sodomite,_ because that seemed like it might be toeing the line.  
The horse jolts over a prairie dog burrow. Instinctively Castiel looks to stabilize himself, a hand landing on the nearest surface--which, of course, happens to be Dean’s hip. As soon as his fingers close there he is yanking them away, as if burned.  
“Whoa, Baby,” Dean calls, ignoring Cas entirely, whether out of politeness or something else, he does not know. “No, I didn’t get chased out of state,” he continues blithely. “Your father a preacher or somethin’?”  
“Yes, actually.”  
Dean makes a noise. “Shit. Sorry, Cas."  
"Sorry about what? Life?"  
"Nah. Jus' the stupid people gettin' in the way of it." He pauses. "Hey," he says, and pauses again.  
"Yes?"  
And suddenly Dean’s palm is on his knuckles, rough and warm, and pulling his hand forward to rest on his hip again, and then forward so it’s wrapped around his waist. Castiel is too stunned to pull away. With one touch the breath has been stolen from his lungs. “It’s gonna get bumpy,” Dean warns, voice scraping a paralyzingly low octave. “Best you held on tight.”  
The Impala is spurred into action like there really is a lion right behind her. As the sun sets behind them, she flies across the prairie, following her shadow home.  
Cas tightens his grip, hands clasped around Dean's middle. He holds on like his life depends on it.

* * * *

Back at the ranch, Dean dismounts first. He pats Baby’s neck, smoothing her hair, and flashes a quick grin at Cecelia, who is grazing innocently nearby.  
“Anyways,” Dean exhales, gazing up at Cas. His face is just as pretty under starlight. “I don’t think Bobby would much mind if you stuck around.”  
“Yeah?” Cas says. "Maybe he wouldn't." He dismounts the horse, rational thought escaping him again as Dean deftly hooks him by the belt loops to pull him closer. Closer, so that Castiel can count each sunspot on his face even in the night. He's warm and solid and unquestionably real.  
He smiles. It’s a soft, private smile.  
"Stay."

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry cows :(  
> Feedback is appreciated :)


End file.
